Billionaire Daddy and Nanny 1(27)

“There’s no reason to stereotype us all.” She said, bringing the crystal glass of water to her lips.

“Why don’t you just leave her alone?” It was Wilder who had said that, and Celia whipped her head to look at him. This wasn’t something that she had expected him to say. Conrad broke into a loud laugh.

“Practice what you preach big brother.” He said, munching on his food.

“How are you feeling grandpa?” Celia spoke directly to him, ignoring the two quarreling brothers on either side of her.

Her grandfather looked tired, barely touching his food. He was drinking too much water and staring at his hands instead of concentrating on his dinner. He looked up at Celia and tried to smile when she spoke to him, but she could see it in his eyes that he was ready for bed, his illness had already got the better of him.

“Just tired, dear girl. I’ll be better in the morning.” He said, and Celia nodded her head.

“Of course. I’ll tuck you in whenever you want to go.” She said, holding her grandfather’s gaze.

“If Jack could have it, he’ll sleep all day, won’t you old sport?” Conrad said. Celia whipped her head to look at him in disgust. She wanted to say something, she was desperate to find the right words to say to this man who was hiding his true personality behind a curtain of fake friendliness.

“He’s sick Conrad. Show him the respect he deserves for his years of service to our family.” Wilder growled, this time he banged the table with a clenched fist. The glass beside his hand shook from the force.

“No, no, I’m fine. Let’s keep eating.” Her grandfather said, while Celia’s nostrils flared from the agony of it all. She was pained for her grandfather. How long did he have to endure this sort of treatment? Had he lived his whole life being treated by the Moore’s this way?

“I am showing him the respect he deserves. Ask him what I’ve offered him. We’re paying for his medical bills, aren’t we? Put a roof over his head.” Conrad’s voice had lost the friendly baritone now and he was snarling his words out at his brother. Wilder stood up, pushing the chair behind him. He was furious, more furious than Celia was.

“That’s enough Conrad. You will shut up right now.” He thundered and Celia clasped the necklace hanging from her neck tightly. What had she found herself in the middle of? What was this world her grandfather was living in?

“Or what? You’ll banish me from your kingdom?” Conrad said and laughed loudly. Celia stared at her grandfather who had turned his eyes to his lap again. He didn’t want to look at what was going on. He didn’t want to be a part of this.

“Conrad, the man is sick!” Wilder continued, placing his clenched fists on the table and leaning forward down the length of it. The table was so long however that he was nowhere close to reaching his brother. Conrad was still laughing; his laugh was ringing manically in Celia’s ears.

“What do you want me to do about it? Change his diapers?” He said, holding his belly as he laughed some more.

Celia couldn’t take it anymore. She stood up with a jerk from the table and threw the napkin from her lap on to the table.

“I’m taking grandpa away, to New York. This is insane.” She cried.

“No, no, Celia, sit down child.” Her grandfather said, but she wasn’t looking at him.

“He doesn’t deserve this. I’m taking him away from this horrid place.” She cried and ran out of the dining room. She could feel hot tears pressing against her eyelids as she ran. Straight through the living room, then through the foyer and out of the house, down the porch…running.

“Celia!” She heard Wilder’s voice behind her. She hadn’t expected anyone to follow her. She needed to be by herself.

“Please leave me alone. I’ve seen enough.” She cried, still keeping her pace up. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going. It had gotten dark by now, she could feel the dusty ground underneath her feet, but all she wanted to do was get as far away from the house as possible.

“Celia. Will you just stop running!” His voice was getting closer; he was catching up to her.

Then she felt his hands on her waist and he had whipped her around. Her body crashed against his wide chest, her hands pressing against his shoulders. He was holding her by her hips, close to himself. In the dark she could see his blue eyes sparkling as he stared straight at her.

“Stop running, Celia.” He said, in a much softer voice. She was out of breath, but nothing before had felt this way before, to just be in his arms.

He was strong, his body was muscular and hard. She could feel the strength in his grip, the rigidity of his thighs against her own soft curves. He released her as suddenly as he had caught her, but she could still barely breathe. The last thing she wanted was to be aroused by Wilder Moore, but that was exactly what was happening.